Arise, Spike Witwicky, Arise! (AU)
Log Title: Arise, Spike Witwicky, Arise! Characters: Holo-Spike (AU), Ratchet (AU), Kaput (AU) ''' '''Location: Cybertron - Apocalypse World Universe Date: 59,901 TP: Apocalypse World TP ''' '''Summary: '' In 2046, Spike met his quick end at the hands of Valour. Now, nearly 50,000 years later, the great war rages on. Fearing Bumblebee's spy duties have made him more and more isolated from the Autobots, Ratchet decides to create an AI companion for Bumblebee that will help him in his espionage duties, assist in repairs, and keep him company. Ratchet decides to base the AI off of one of Bumblebee's best friends. Kaput gets the prestigious 'duty' of helping create the AI. '' category:59901 category:Apocalypse World TP category:logs As logged by Spikewitwicky ''On A Space Station near Cybertron'' Kaput has done some research on a very old wrench Bumblebee gave him, belonging to an old friend, long departed from this world. One of the things Kaput did was research the contents in Spike's funeral bier - a collection of things in a compartment box, including photos of his family, a few books that he loved, a few CDs he loved, and a holo-message from Carly. The 79-year-old saying "For those who discover this, I am Carly Witwicky. I welcome you to study the contents in this compartment, but politely request you keep its occupant, who was named Spike, on his journey - and keep this craft going to explore other parts of this vast universe. And if you would be so kind, as to refuel this craft. You have my gratitude." Kaput makes an exasperated sign, going to the Sparkplug Medical Center and pulling EVERY archive material about Spike, including ALL of his journal entries, THEN, through the tapes of Teletraan One, THEN Teletraan TWO, THEN, Teletran 3. THEN his TV appearances. He sets the material on Ratchet's desk. "Okay...that's everything. Every speck he wrote, every time he appeared on TV. Every time he was on camera." Kaput hands Ratchet Sparkplug's wrench. "Oh...Bumblebee asked for this back when you're done." Kaput smiles, just happy to be working under Ratchet. But as for his assignment, the Witwicky family has effectively been part of the past for a long time. He gets the 'gist' of the novelty - first humans coming in contact with, then some feats of bravery here and there, but after all, their reign was relatively short-lived - maybe a total of 150 years if at that, before the family went their separate ways from the Autobots. Ratchet gives Kaput a crooked grin. "Thanks," he grunts roughly. "I know it doesn't mean much to you, but for some of us..." Ratchet thinks of Bee, "It can mean a lot." Ratchet dismisses Kaput, and then sits back, looking over the physical artifacts he's collected about the Witwickys -- tangible reminders to supplement the electronic archives. It's too bad Rewind isn't still around, Ratchet starts to think -- but then pushes the painful thought from his mind, focusing again on his main concern -- the memory of Spike. Kaput looks curiously at Ratchet. "So...uh...we're going to...create...like...an AI for Bumblebee...someone that communicate to us as a surrogate without Bumblebee having to break radio silence, as well as...someone who can keep him company during this upcoming mission when he recovers from his injuries?" Ratchet turns to his latest project, and then looks up, seeming annoyed that Kaput is still here. "Yes. An AI that can keep him company in the field, providing medical and moral support. I've been working on just the thing. This --" Ratchet gestures to all the ephemera he's collected with Kaput's help. "Is the last bit of data I need to complete the programming." Kaput nods, still not 'getting' Ratchet's impatience. "Were you...at his funeral? I mean, Spike's?" About 32 glyphs appear - from age 14 to around 76. Each one representing Spike at a certain time in his life with the Autobots. Now, which one to choose from? "I missed it," Ratchet practically spits, as bitter now as if it had happened yesterday. "I was on Xetaxxis, dealing with the damn war there -- we never did get that resolved, waste of our precious time and resources." Ratchet considers a moment, and then chooses an avatar of Spike from age 14 -- when he first allied himself with the Autobots. In Ratchet's mind, that's when he was at peak Spike-ness. Kaput nods and backs up. He is curious about this very small blip in Autobot history. The first arrival on Earth, but he also knows Ratchet's notorious moods. But still, Ratchet possesses a wealth of knowledge like virtually no other medic. And sometimes, getting that knowledge means taking some serious snark. "So...Bumblebee and Spike were...pretty close friends I take?" He shrugs "Sorry I'm asking, it's just...I never heard him mention him before (even 60,000 years can fade a memory for an Autobot)." Ratchet nods, and looks off in the middle distance as memory overcomes him. The normally-cranky old doctor says quietly, "When we woke up on Earth, Spike was one of the first humans to greet us. I was secretly skeptical at first -- or maybe not-so-secretly, it was a long damned time ago -- but Spike and his dad impressed me. Impressed me a lot. Bumblebee might have been the one closest to Spike, but he made a real impact on all o' us." Ratchet shakes his head, as if to cast out the unusually sentimental mood. The 31 other glyphs of Spike disappear. The remaining one is transparent as anything. Going from his full human color to an mainly blue-ish display, typical of many holograms. A human with jeans, electrical boots, and tan worksheet appears. He may look 14, but the data contained from the artifacts represent a lifetime of experience and knowledge. Kaput gives a guarded smile. "Is there...anything I can help with?" Ratchet frowns, resuming his normally-cantankerous attitude. "Maybe. Help me feed in the last bit of data you brought me, and let's see if I can get this thing live. I'm not Blaster, Cheshire, or Wheeljack," he growls, "But that doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about building AI s." Ratchet starts adding the additional archival footage Kaput collected into the digital assistant's programming. The typical ethical dilemmas of such an operation are factored in. With 60,000 years of technological innovations, you could feasibly create the form of a departed individual - and make them act and behave as they are very much their living forms, even allowing for the basic human elements of unpredictable behavior and learning. But how much of that is allowed before taking into account that the very real reality of ones since lost can never be wholly returned, and as the process of grief, should not try to be fully replicated. 'The hell with ethical dilemmas,' Ratchet thinks. 'I'm giving it a shot.' Feeling he's walked the narrow edge of what's acceptable and what's not, Ratchet gives his pet project the plunge. Once the last bit of data is entered, Ratchet intakes air over his processors and activates the AI, glancing quickly at the hologram to watch to see if it comes to life. Kaput makes sure to work on a station away from Ratchet. "Okay..." Sure enough, there are enough gaps, even with journal entries to not make him seem like a continuation of his departed self. He blinks and says "Odd, most people I've read have at least 20 sexual partners in their lives, this one appears to only have 3, and one was just a single encounter." A small display, small enough to fit in Bumblebee's palm, meaning something MUCH smaller than Spike's real form beings to form a display. It looks like a bad TRS-80-era display of light and pixels, but quickly begins to morph into a realized form of the 14-year-old version of Spike. But right now, it just looks like a photo. Spike's face looks down as he appears to be in deep thought, but essentially, it's just a 'load' screen. Ratchet grumpily ignores Kaput's inane observations, focused on impatiently watching Spike's AI load. "Come on, come on..." he grumbles, not realizing he's leaning forward anxiously, hunched over his creation. "Dammit," he explodes. "What's taking it so long?" Ratchet bangs his palm on his desk, then instantly regrets it as pain shoots through his ancient, delicate hands. As Spike's form freezes, the 'other' part of his function is loaded, access to all Autobot communications, firewall protection and encryption to protect his buddy Bumblebee when he has to remain 'dark.' Kaput backs away from Ratchet. "I'm sorry - " Spike remains still, but it's no longer a 'frozen' still. It seems to be that of someone who was frozen in place for some reason, but finally 'coming' to. The 14-year-old looks around, then looks at his boots. Then his hands. Thousands of terabytes of data into his 'personality' trigger the very accurate look of confusion on the boy's face. What in the living hell? Ratchet scowls at over at Kaput. "Don't you have any place to be?" Ratchet snaps, misplacing his frustration. Ratchet turns back to his desk, and reaches down, pulling out a small set of containers. Glancing at the AI, Ratchet passes the time by pouring himself a stiff shot of high-grade. He needs more and more of it lately to get through the day, a fact he erroneously believes he's hiding from his staff. He's so focused in preparing his drink that he misses holo-Spike's moment of 'birth'. Kaput leaves quickly. "I'm gone! I'm gone!" He goes into the next room, leaving Spike and Ratchet. Spike looks up at Ratchet and says in disbelief. "R..Ratchet?!" Spike looks at his hands. They are no longer the wrinkled hands of a great-grandfather. He looks at his jeans and nimbly raises one knee and the other. No foreign body knee replacement. Ratchet looks back, and guilt flits across his aged features as he quickly hides the engex. "Oh! Spike! Welcome back to life," he says grandly. "The original Spike is gone, but you've been reborn, to once again serve the Autobots as assistant and pet," he teases. "How do you feel?" Ratchet asks, spreading his hands. Oh, boy -- what a re-introduction to life! Spike thinks, his history pretty much ended when he felt Valour's cold stab into his side. He looks at his side, it's pristine. Though when he tries to unflap his shirt, he just grabs air, since he's only a display of light. BUT, that doesn't prevent him from taking a deep breath. He looks up at Ratchet again. "I...uh...I feel....like...a kid!" Spike tries to take a step, but he realizes he's very much on a display. He looks up at Ratchet, looking around. "Do you like...have a mirror?!" "Yeah, yeah," Ratchet says. "This must be confusing for you. I should have provided some help files or something. You've been reborn as an artificial intelligence, and restored to your youth -- at the time we first met you, but with full memories and experiences of what happened after. Think of it like I brought you back to life, but in a holographic form." Ratchet doesn't actually offer a mirror. Spike looks at Ratchet and gestures him to come 'closer' to eye level, if anything, maybe he can see himself in Ratchet's chest. He laughs "Yeah...I'm guessing no amount of luck could have saved me from that blow that...Valour? gave me!" He motions Ratchet closer. "Just...lean in..." Spike grins and says "What...like year is this?!" Spike isn't exactly capable of fully-human logic, feelings, but Ratchet has made a convincing replica. Let's see, he died in 2046. Meaning, it's probably... 2112 or so. (but actually, it's closer to 59,901) Ratchet's chest design is different than it used to be, but it's still shiny enough for Spike to get a glimpse of his own glowing reflection. "I think it was Valour that killed, you, yeah. One of those Seekers. Who can tell them apart?" Ratchet says callously with a wave. "And the year? I dunno, hell. In Earth years? I guess around 59,901." Spike looks up at Ratchet and says in a very Spike tone, in fact, the tone of his 14-year-old self, with a bit of a squeak "Are you SHITTING me!" Spike slowly reaches out and touches Ratchet's chest design, but his hand disappears once he makes contact with Ratchet's chest, but it reappears again when he pulls it back. He looks at himself, in the reflection. He shakes his head "In...credible." Spike looks at his reflection, then looks up at Ratchet, then looks at his reflection again. "You're just a prototype right now," Ratchet explains. "Once we get the bugs worked out, I'll work on giving you a floating holo-emitter so you can move around outside your console. Maybe even some forcefield technology so you can have some physical corporeality. In the meantime, however, you're stuck in my lab - until we send you on your first assignment." Spike looks at his hard-hat and tries to take it off, but alas, all he does is grasp air. He continues to study his face. The 60-so odd other years of experience marveling that, at least on the surface, all of that has been erased. He nods, "Sure...any way I can defeat the Decepticons, let me know." He pauses and looks at Ratchet - another emotion, proof that at least at the beginning, Ratchet's invention has succeeded. It's a look of concern and worry - almost like he left a loved one behind. "Bumblebee! Where is he?! He isn't..." Ratchet offers a grin -- rare for him these days. "Bumblebee is fine," he rasps. "In fact, he's the one I designed you to work with. He never really found another solid partner after you, and I'm afraid he's been going it alone too long. It's a lonely life for a spy, and I think he's been taking greater and greater risks in the field. I want... I want you to try to keep him alive, Spike. If you can," he adds quietly. Spike nods, almost reverently "Sure...absolutely." A sad expression crosses Spike's face, ANOTHER emotion! He wanted Bumblebee to find another best friend. He hopes Ratchet is just bending the truth. But then another thought - ANOTHER success crosses his head, or programming. He looks at Ratchet and gulps, not even wanting to ask "Optimus Prime ..is he still...alive?" Ratchet vents air -- and it sounds an awful lot like a sigh. "Yeah, Prime's still around. He might be happy to see you as well, if ---" Ratchet's face twists into his usual frown. "If he'll take a Primus-damned astrominute to stop and look around and maybe take a break before he kills himself!" Ratchet slams his hand against his desk, wincing -- proving he's learned nothing from last time, or the time before. Outburst over, Ratchet slumps back into his chair, scowling. Spike frowns, "Okay, Jeez, chill. He's the leader of the Autobots, he's OBVIOUSLY got a lot on his plate!" He looks at Ratchet and studies him. A small smile crosses his face. He shakes his head. "You...remembered me. After all these years. I mean... it's been 58,000." He pauses and says "Wait...I remembered that. Like...I formed a memory. And Bee, he's...he's alive, but he may need me to help him in the field." He looks at Ratchet and smiles "Sorry...it's just... I can't believe after all these years, I'd still...register." Ratchet hazards another smile. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grouses. "We remembered ya. Don't let it go to your head -- it was 58,000 years before we figured we needed you again," he teases, chuckling. "You'll get a hang of all this. I gave you access to our datalogs since your death, and you'll find you can process information a lot faster than you could when you were a meatbag. But nonetheless -- you got a lot of reading to catch up on!" Spike doesn't seem TOO broken up about the loss of his entire family and friends. Maybe because part of the programming included the obvious realization that though he didn't know the year, it was a given that everyone in his family line had since passed, being upset about Daniel's death would make as much sense as him being broken up about the death of Archibald Witwicky. Both have been long gone, and in the short time frame in the grand scheme of things. Spike looks up at Ratchet, waiting for him to 'turn him off.' He gestures to Ratchet and says "Still hitting the energon pretty hard I see." Ratchet smirks. "Watch it, wiseaft. It's not too late to turn you back off!" Busted, Ratchet pulls out his drink, and sits back, allowing himself a long sip to celebrate his success. "Now, you get downloading, and I'll answer questions in the morning." Ratchet gestures to the space station window, with its view of eternal night. "Not that you can tell what time of day it is in this infernal place, anyway." He scowls. Spike 's face freezes, it looks like he's trying to think of something. Damnit, a glitch. The program is learning how to decipher sarcasm and ribbing. And a humor comeback. Spike's face is frozen an annoyingly long 40 seconds before he comes back with "Sorry, I didn't get. Could you please repeat th.." Then he got it. "57,000 years, I better hit the books!" AU-Ratchet chuckles. "I'm sure you'll catch up in no time. G'night, Spike. And... welcome back." A friendly voice chimes in "downloading...updating data..."